


Losing It All

by PlaneJane



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Dubious Consent, F/M, Humiliation, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-09
Updated: 2011-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:32:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlaneJane/pseuds/PlaneJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana uses Merlin, in more ways than one.  <b>(This is a missing scene from Season 4, Episode 6.  Spoilers for the whole episode.)</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing It All

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [prompt](http://leviathans-moon.livejournal.com/133465.html?thread=1198937#t1198937) at the Merlin/Morgana Appreciation Fest.

Merlin hangs, hands bound above his head, his whole body limp and motionless. Morgana tires of waiting for him to stir.

A bucket of icy well-water soon rouses him from his stupor.

When Morgana asks him, “Why are you so loyal to Arthur?” she knows she’ll never hear the honest answer from Merlin’s lips, but his fleeting flash of wide-eyed shock gives it all away. Merlin: cheery, fresh-faced Merlin, whose innocent demeanour belies how dangerous he is. But it shows when he spits his words of defiance in her face, flickering under the fear in his eyes.

Arthur and Merlin?

Morgana laughs at the absurdity of it.

Merlin twitches and winces while Morgana digs her fingers into his shoulder. Her voice is low but sharp as daggers as she whispers into his ear the spell that will heal him. Merlin slumps and stills, and Morgana walks away.

Merlin, it appears, is more feisty and resilient than his narrow frame would suggest. For it’s only moments later that Morgana hears him murmur and moan and the sound cuts deep, twisting low in her belly. It’s been a while, and the fire of revenge might be burning bright in her heart but Morgana is cold from want—always wanting, wanting, wanting. Nothing is enough these days, nothing fills the void left by loss and betrayal.

Morgana’s seen Merlin look at her before, a different lifetime ago. He might warm Arthur’s bed so that Gwen may keep her virtue, but Merlin is only a mortal man. Morgana knows she’ll need no magic for this purpose; no cannier charm than her beauty.

Morgana faces Merlin and runs her finger up the front of his breeches.

“I need to take a leak.” He mumbles out the words as his midnight-dark eyelashes flutter.

Morgana reaches beneath the hem of his tunic, grazing her nails over fevered skin and the coarse hairs on his belly. With her face a breath away from Merlin’s, she snaps the laces that hold up Merlin’s breeches with a sharp tug. They fall into a graceless mess around his ankles.

Merlin’s eyes fly open, as his groin and pale, thin legs are perfectly exposed to the cold, dank air of the hovel. Morgana stares relentlessly into Merlin’s watery, blue eyes. He looks away, cheeks flushing with shame.

Taking her time, smiling as she lets her gaze linger over her captive, Morgana says, “I’ll get you a bucket.”

When she bends down, to retrieve the bucket from the floor, there’s no mistaking what Morgana sees at the hem of Merlin’s tunic. His cock isn’t entirely engorged with arousal, but it isn’t flaccid either.

“Like what you see?” Morgana teases, setting the bucket down in front of Merlin’s feet. She stands and runs her hands over her breasts, exposing more of her flesh, watching Merlin grimace. “Go on then—do it.”

“I can’t, not like this.”

“Why ever not?”

Merlin doesn’t answer, and it’s interesting, fascinating in fact, to see him fidget in his restraints. It had never occurred to Morgana, before this very instant, the lustful thrill of seeing a man unwillingly exposed and so very vulnerable, unable to control his natural urges.

Morgana reaches out, almost but not-quite-touching the tip of Merlin’s cock. “Do you want me to hold it?”

The hitch in his breath is unmistakeable. Merlin turns his head away and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Oh, Merlin, it’s easy. So very, very easy,” Morgana says softly, skimming her fingers over the loose skin that sheaths the end of Merlin’s cock. “You just have to let it go.”

Merlin keeps his eyes closed. His breaths are fast and urgent, and his cock: Merlin’s heart and mind might be loyal to the death, but his cock is as traitorous as any man’s. It juts out, fully hard, from beneath his tunic.

“Come now, Merlin, don’t be shy.” Morgana closes her fingers around his shaft and strokes Merlin’s cock, up and down, firmly, all the way from tip to base. “All you have to do is look at me. I’ll stop teasing and you can take that piss you’re so desperate for.”

“Stop, Morgana, _please.”_

His words hold nothing of the venom of his earlier pledge to his lord. They hold nothing of substance at all, nothing but the faltering frailness of indecision.

“Merlin.”

Morgana stops stroking and extends one arm around Merlin’s waist, pressing her hand into the small of his back. With her other hand, Morgana pushes a fist into Merlin’s belly, against his bladder. Merlin whimpers and gasps. Morgana releases the pressure, waits for Merlin to gasp in a breath then does it again, revelling in his futile attempts to scrabble away from her. Each time Merlin tries to swing backwards he only ends up barrelling forward again, into her balled fist.

Merlin’s cock starts to soften and if he was clever, now would be the time to take that piss, no matter where it goes. Instead, he tries to twist away. It’s pointless, and Morgana seizes her chance, grabbing Merlin by the balls and squeezing, not too hard—but hard enough he’ll like it. He freezes and there’s nothing but terror and confusion on his face as his cock betrays him once again.

Morgana trails her fingers around the solid length of Merlin’s engorged cock, and into the nest of hair at his groin, pushing and kneading at his balls. Merlin bucks and struggles. Morgana grips Merlin’s cock and squeezes until he stills.

“Merlin,” she says again, “Be a good boy for me then I’ll let you go and you can piss to your heart’s content.”

“I can’t, not now.”

“Yes you can. Watch me. I’ll show you how.”

Morgana steps back, scraping the bucket over the uneven earth towards her feet. She hoists up her skirts and before Merlin can cast his eyes away commands, “Watch me, Merlin.”

“No.”

“As you wish.”

Morgana positions herself over the bucket, legs apart, and makes sure her skirts are high enough, in part to ensure they miss the splash of her piss. More than that though, when Merlin opens his eyes, because Morgana has no doubt in her mind that he will, he will see her sex as she pisses: plump and swollen, ripe and ready and close enough he’ll be able to smell her piss and her cunt.

The first trickle hardly makes a sound. But after the second push, Morgana’s piss flows out, bold and loud, into the bottom of the bucket.

As she expected, Merlin looks—and frowns and squirms. Morgana sees his cock bobbing, his arousal showing no signs of flagging. Squeezing out the last drop, she pushes her fingers against the moist skin that enfolds her cunt and spreads her fingers wide. When she looks up, Merlin is staring like he can’t draw his eyes away from the once-hidden pink flesh she’s sure he’s dreamed about. She lets him look a while longer, watches as he bites his lip and pushes up onto his feet.

“Now, Merlin, I’m going to put the bucket right there in front of you, and you’re going to take that piss.”

“I can’t.”

“Oh yes you can.” She lets her skirts drop and saunters the three steps to Merlin, pushing the bucket in front of his bent legs. Using the hand that had just fingered her wet cunt, Morgana strokes the bridge of Merlin’s nose and over his lips. “Do you smell me?”

Merlin cringes, screws up his nose and shakes his head. Morgana brutally grips his cheeks in her hand, covering his mouth, and watches as he has to relent, to breathe her in through his nose.

The more Merlin tries to draw into himself, to rein in what Morgana knows is desire, the more it fires the desire in her to drive Merlin to despair. Slipping around behind Merlin, Morgana takes a gentle hold of his cock. It’s stiff, too stiff to piss downwards, perhaps too stiff to piss at all. “You know, Merlin, perhaps if I took care of that first. Would that help?”

Merlin’s head falls forward and he whimpers again. It’s as much of a nod as Morgana is going to get, but it’s undoubtedly a reluctant assent. The satisfaction swells in Morgana’s chest, and she feels her heart thumping in excitement and anticipation. Merlin’s final humiliation will be a victory all of its own—when he gives in to his basest needs and desires and comes undone by Morgana’s hand, it will be with thoughts of his precious Arthur foremost in his mind.

She strokes slow and firm. “Does Arthur do this to you?”

Merlin doesn’t answer.

Morgana asks again. “Merlin, does Arthur put his big, callused hand on your cock? Does he rub the seed from your loins?”

Merlin sucks in a breath and that might be counted as a yes. Morgana sneers, before spitting into her hand and putting it back around Merlin’s cock. “Or does he suck you? Does he ever suck your cock, Merlin? And maybe you suck him, too, with those pretty, pretty lips of yours.”

Merlin struggles now and it’s sweet delight to see him warring between lust and loyalty. Morgana can feel his body drawn rigid and brittle as a winter branch. With enough force he’ll snap.

There’s wetness at the tip of Merlin’s cock, not piss, but the clear, slick moisture of arousal. Morgana works it into the tips of her fine fingers and slides her grasp down once more. Then she balls her fist and jabs a sharp blow to Merlin’s gut.

He cries out this time.

“Merlin, hush now.”

“Please, I need to—”

Morgana could go on like this for hours, teasing Merlin’s cock. She might even fuck him before she lets him go. He’s a waif of a thing but he’s built strong and straight between the legs and it’s been a long time—

“All right, since you beg so sweetly.”

Morgana releases him, and moves to seat herself on the edge of the well, facing Merlin. His eyes are filled with tears and his brow is furrowed. His breaths are long and laboured, and the tension in his body is obvious, even from three steps away. Perhaps, if he concentrates, Merlin will be able to take that much needed piss—but not quite yet—if Morgana has her way.

Morgana sits with her legs bent, spread wide, and lifts her skirt so that Merlin can see her cunt. She’s swollen open and it doesn’t take long, with the heel of her hand pressed against that sensitive spot and her middle finger pushed inside her cunt, for the impending ascent and crash to a climax. She moans through every exhaled breath—filthy, lustful, sluttish sounds.

Merlin’s full, soft lips are parted and it’s just as she wanted—he doesn’t take his eyes off her. Morgana watches his cock, bobbing and jutting out, his feet scrabbling on the dirt, pushing his hips into the air as if that will offer some friction. She can see the lust and desperation in his eyes now, and it’s all she needs. She closes her eyes for a moment and comes with a cry, the release pulsing out through her, from her cunt to her toes.

As she quiets and regains her composure, Morgana stands, hands on hips, and pushes down her skirts.

She approaches Merlin carefully, and is pleased to find he’s no longer skittish; he no longer flinches and wriggles away. Running her fingers up Merlin’s thigh and over the gentle curve of his buttock, Morgana commands, “All right. Push it out, Merlin.”

His cock’s hard—hard enough that he could fuck.

“I can’t. It won’t come out.”

At last, he’s trembling, and Morgana feels power of a different kind to the magic that now surges unbridled through her veins.

“Breath slowly, calm down.”

She hushes and soothes him down his sides, whilst Merlin pants and whines like a nervous animal. His brow is damp with sweat, and his fists, white-knuckled, clench at his restraints. It takes a long moment before his quiet whimpers subside—and then there’s a spurt, a wet spurt of fluid. It’s hardly more than a drop but Merlin groans as it leaves his body.

Moving to his side, Morgana takes Merlin’s cock in her fingers, lightly and only to aim his softening cock downwards. Nevertheless, she doesn’t let him off quite that easily. “Now, now you can let it all go. And when you’re done I’m going to milk every last drop of come from your cock. Perhaps I’ll even let you fuck me.”

Merlin bites and stutters out, “I don’t want to fuck you. I’d rather die.”

Just like a man, wanting the last word. Morgana ignores the defiance. She feels the tension in Merlin’s body pulsing beneath her fingers. Then another tiny, stuttered spray of piss leaves Merlin’s cock with reluctance, coughing and spluttering in awkward spurts that splash everywhere. Merlin sobs and Morgana feels a rush of satisfaction.

“Shhh, it’s all right—I know it hurts. Let it go for me, Merlin. Be a good boy for me and I’ll take good care of you.”

Every sobbing breath that Merlin takes shakes his body, no matter how Morgana tries to gentle him. But at last, Morgana feels him push, and with a groan, Merlin pisses fast and hard. It gushes and gushes out of his cock, splashing over the floor onto his boots, seeping into the dark earth around their feet. The last trickles run across the top of Morgana’s hand, warm and wet, and down Merlin’s cock.

“There, there. Now isn’t that better? But look what a mess you made.” Morgana reaches for a rag and mercilessly dabs and drags the rough cloth over Merlin’s groin. “Because you’ve been so good for me I’m going to suck the seed from you.”

It seems as if Merlin is going to resist, but it’s as short-lived as the time it takes for Morgana to drop to her knees. She licks the length of his cock, breathing in the acrid smell of his sex, of his urine, of his fear. It should be a displeasure, to sink so low and fellate a filthy servant-boy, but there are more gains to be had than losses in this game she’s started.

Morgana looks up at Merlin and flutters her lashes. “I’m going to ask you again—does Arthur do this to you?”

She licks the length of his shaft again, firmer than before, and it responds at once. Merlin makes a high gasping noise and Morgana smiles. “I thought not.”

With force, Morgana pulls her lips over her teeth and sinks her head down, sucking Merlin’s cock into her mouth. Merlin bucks into the punishing rhythm she sets, and they move together, against each other, in perfect balance.

Arthur will never have this moment, because for all eternity it will be Morgana that took Merlin like this first. He doesn’t last long, coming in her mouth with shuddering jerks. She sucks more gently as he softens in her mouth, swallowing every last drop. Its bitter taste is a sharp reminder of the hate that burns inside her, of the revenge that will be hers.

Morgana rises to her feet, takes Merlin’s jaw in her hand and presses a hard kiss to his lips.

“You wanted this, Merlin. You wanted _me,”_ Morgana hisses.

Tears fall, glistening over Merlin’s reddened cheeks. Deep, worried creases are etched into his brow. He shakes his head but there’s no denying what they did.

Very soon, Morgana will plant the Fammorah in Merlin’s neck. Still, she takes a moment to bask in the glory of this minor victory, of Merlin’s anguish and dismay.

Because what passed between them—that will be the last thing Merlin remembers.


End file.
